I have a final to take this week for a class I didn't know if I'd be able to finish. Here I am, about to complete it. As I study, I am reviewing methods for counseling people and can't help but try to counsel myself. Last night I was struck by my own great need for defining what specific obedience looked like for me right now - in very practical terms - what is it that God is asking of me?
I am asked to wait. I am asked to trust him with Sully's days and my own. I am asked to come to him with my weakness and brokenness and be held by him. I have felt myself flailing in his arms but now, I just hang there, limp and tearful. What will you do with me God?
I have found the response to my last posting interesting. So much encouragement from so many, but also, I have received a few "worried" responses. Surprising to me. If it sounds as if I am turning away from God, I am not. If anything, I have turned towards him with my grief and anger and questions. Where else could I go with that? What else could I possibly do but throw myself at him? I have no doubt God will prove faithful and loving and compassionate. He is big enough to hold me in my fear and struggle.
As my due date approaches more strangers are asking about it. I have felt the recurring blow of that original Valentine's Day marker. It seems cruel but then I reconsider it all. When Brad and I decided to try for a third child we talked through all of the "inconveniences" of pregnancy and infancy. I have always found that first needy year quite hard, but we felt that what came after was worth the cost. We believed that each child was a picture of the love between us, a celebration of the union God had given us. And so, for love, we chose the inconvenience of another child. And then, how wonderful, our due date fell on February 14th! Our family would be complete with this last image of love in the flesh. I wonder now about all of this. Is it cruel to see those heart shaped flags and decorations in the stores now and on recently de-garlanded neighborhood doors? Will it always feel like such a stab in the heart? Or, is Sully still exactly what he was meant to be? Is he a much truer picture of our love, broken and incompatible with life but somehow tender and achingly beautiful?
So, here I am. I've shown up for one more day. Help me to trust you today, God. Prove yourself faithful to me.
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1 comment:
I understand your puzzlement at the worried responses. I've experienced similar responses when I've shared struggles. I think people can confuse vulnerability and openness with weakness, especially when they don't know how to help and desire deeply to help. I think the kind of vulnerability you show here indicates deep strength in your faith, marriage, and personhood. One of my best spiritual teachers taught "Only to the extent that I embrace my vulnerability can I have access to my strength." and I believe that fully. Your image of throwing yourself at God, flailing, then lying limp in his arms with your tears fits. You're not hiding anything you feel from God or from yourself and that allows healing. You're not keeping anything about Sully and your feelings unspeakable and that which we speak about and name is open to the light of healing. I believe you may always feel a pang at Valentines Day because the pain and loss are real, but I believe you will mostly see that day as a marker for the deepest possible kind of love, that which abides our personal worst.
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